


The Rose

by Hvis_og_bare_hvis



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Le Petit Prince | The Little Prince - Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
Genre: Abandonment, Banter, Gardens & Gardening, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hope, Kindness, Loneliness, Platonic Love, Self-Doubt, The Doctor/River Song (mentioned) - Freeform, The Doctor/Rose Tyler (Mentioned) - Freeform, The Doctor/The Master (mentioned) - Freeform, The Rose/The little Prince (mentioned) - Freeform, Volcanoes, baobabs, kindness between strangers, what is beauty?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:47:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29044089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hvis_og_bare_hvis/pseuds/Hvis_og_bare_hvis
Summary: After Darillium, the Doctor tries to take a breather from his losses and accidentally meets someone who might understand him. On a very small planet far away...Contribution to the Love Is In The Air Writing Challenge by @startrekkingaroundasgard
Relationships: The Doctor & The Rose
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	The Rose

When the Doctor opened the TARDIS door to step onto the planet they had landed on, he instantly recoiled. He had held his head high, and for a moment he thought the TARDIS hadn’t landed at all. The darkness of outer space was swirling in front of his eyes, shimmering in a navy blue, almost black and twinkling back at him with a thousand colourful stars.

Usually, the sight comforted him, but today lonely galaxies and star constellations were not what he was looking for. Neither was what he found when his gaze dropped down and he realised they had indeed landed on a planet.

It was a very small, very barren planet, not much larger in its entirety than the TARDIS exterior and far smaller than its interior. But then, the latter was probably true for the whole universe. The planet was also empty, safe for a couple of smaller plants - flowers and something resembling tree sprouts - and two tiny craters. To the Doctor’s right the sun was setting over the pastel blue surface. But the planet seemed to rotate quickly, so he assumed it would soon rise again.

This was really not what he had been looking for. To be fair, he hadn’t been looking for anything specific, he had just needed a breather. Little time in which he wouldn’t have to think, neither about the past, nor about his next destination. Little time without having to think about the message that called him from Darillium.

He had thought he had gotten better at coping. Had thought that he wouldn’t feel the need to forget anymore, that he could honour the past and stay hopeful for the future despite all the losses he had had to endure. He had thought he would be able to live with the loss of the memories of Clara, had thought when the time would come, he could even let River go without breaking. 

But when _that_ message had ended the night at Darillium, calling him to his duty he had felt the strong urge to bolt. To run away, just for a little while. He would have to follow the message eventually, but there was always some wiggle room, and right now he needed to make use of it. Time for one last trip, one last adventure where there were people to save, one last adventure that would keep him from thinking too hard about all he had lost and what he was about to lose.

So, he had let the TARDIS do most of the steering. He trusted her to bring him to a place where he was needed and hadn’t paid too much attention to the coordinates - apart from making sure they were not the ones in the message. And now she had led him here. Where there was absolutely nothing interesting enough to stop his wandering thoughts.

“What is this supposed to be?” he complained, making an accusing gesture towards one of the craters.

Of course, his bad mood was not the TARDIS’ fault, but she hadn’t really tried helping him either and it felt good to vent some of his frustration. He would have to make it up to her later, but right now he found a little comfort in airing his discontent.

“I distinctly remember saying ‘Give me a planet, old girl’. This is not a planet! It’s an asteroid at best, a pile of dirt! This is the planet equivalent to a sonic trowel. Or to a Tuesday! No, I know what it’s like, dear, it’s like thinking you’re travelling in a TARDIS, but it’s actually a vortex manipulator. That’s exactly what it’s like. Now, go and take me to a sensible place.”

He was halfway back through the TARDIS door, ready to close it a little more forcefully than necessary, when a small, but conceited voice startled him.

“Are you done insulting my planet, Sir?”

The Doctor jumped a little, instinctively reaching for his sonic screwdriver to scan for whatever sentient being might be speaking to him. The voice let out a noise somewhere between the rustling of leaves and a snort and the Doctor gathered it had to be laughing at him. The sonic didn’t find any living creature in the vicinity apart from the plants, and frowning the Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS and looked around.

“It isn’t good form, now is it?” the voice said, “Landing on another planet, destroying one third of its volcanos and at least one fourth of its vegetation and then, instead of apologising, starting to insult it?”

It sounded indignant, but also a little amused.

“Who are you?” the Doctor asked, carefully scanning his surroundings again for good measure although he didn’t believe it would help, “Where are you?”

“No, no, no, no, no” The voice sounded patronising. It came from below the Doctor, from between some of the small trees. “I think the words you were looking for are ‘I apologise for disturbing and insulting you and your planet, and I will do anything to make amends.’ Isn’t that right?”

“Who are you?” the Doctor demanded to know again, approaching and scanning the trees. The sonic still only registered vegetation.

“Just a little farther” the voice cooed, suddenly not strict anymore but very eager, “There you go! Well done!”

The Doctor had bended the branches to the side revealing a small rose reaching up towards him. She was turning slightly in the last light of the setting sun as if to present him her beauty in all its glory. Just that she wasn’t particularly beautiful. She was a simple rose, as could be found in any garden in Great Britain and she was way beyond her bloom. Most of her leaves were dried out, hanging sadly by the tiny ruby blossom that had survived.

“You’re a rose” the Doctor said, pocketing the sonic.

“You don’t seem pleased” the rose said. She sounded offended.

“Oh no, that’s just my face” the Doctor hurried to explain, “The eyebrows, you know.”

“And your tone?” the rose quipped, “Is that also just ‘your voice’?”

“Might be” the Doctor said, “How come you can talk?”

“Excuse me” the rose huffed, “ _I’m_ not the alien landing on a foreign planet. How come you can talk but can’t apologise for the damage you have caused?”

“Oh yeah” the Doctor said, looking back towards the TARDIS, “Sorry about that.”

The rose huffed again.

“Alright” she said finally, “I don’t assume I’ll get anything better from you.”

“Listen, I’ll be off immediately” the Doctor promised, “Then you can do…whatever it is you do, in peace. I came here by accident anyway.”

“Yes, you’ve made that quite clear” the rose remarked.

“Okay then, goodbye” the Doctor said, ready to turn around and step into the Tardis, but the rose held him back again.

“You’re not finished here, yet” she said, and she sounded surprised, like she couldn’t believe, he’d just go, “You haven’t made amends.”

“’Made amends?’” the Doctor echoed.

“Of course” the rose said, “Water my roots, pluck the old leaves, feed me some nice soil from the other end of the planet and tell me how beautiful I am.”

“You want me to pamper you?” the Doctor asked incredulous.

“You will pamper me” the rose clarified, “And while you’re at it, you can rip out the baobabs. If they continue growing, they’ll destroy the planet eventually. Oh, and clean the volcanos. Well, two of them, seeing as you have crushed the other one.”

“Sorry” the Doctor said and this time he meant it.

“At least you chose the one that wasn’t working anyway” the rose sighed.

“Still, I am sorry” the Doctor repeated, “But I am not going to pamper you. I’m not into gardening.”

“Well, I’m not into my gardening being done by a rude alien” the rose sneered, “But sometimes our options are limited.”

The Doctor stopped and considered for a moment. He didn’t know where he wanted to go anyway. Why not stay here for a while? Were adventures and people really what he needed right now? When he didn’t even feel like himself? Maybe this could actually be good. Maybe the rose would understand him. After all she seemed almost as alone as him, here on this tiny, barren planet. And maybe, even if he wouldn’t admit it to himself, maybe he just couldn’t deny a rose’s wishes.

“Fine” he breathed, crouching down to give the rose a gentle nudge, “Let’s get you pampered, shall we?”

The rose hummed contently, but when the Doctor reached out to pluck away the first dried leave, she gave off a high-pitched shriek.

“The cheek!” she complained, “Ripping of my leaves without warning! I haven’t even gotten your name!”

Startled the Doctor pulled his hand back, just to immediately roll his eyes.

“I’m the Doctor” he growled, “And I don’t respond well to being shouted at.”

“Be a little careful then!” the rose demanded, and the Doctor crossed his arms in exasperation.

“I’ve got to touch the leaves if you want to get rid of them” he told her the obvious.

“You can” the rose allowed graciously, “Just - be gentle. I’m frail and precious.”

She seemed entirely pleased with herself and the Doctor bit back an annoyed groan.

“Don’t look that frail to me” he murmured under his breath. Loudly he said: “Fine! Don’t wander off, I’ll be back in a second.”

“Very funny” the rose retorted, but she looked a little anxious stretching her blossom to watch the Doctor retreat into the TARDIS.

When he came back holding a watering can and a shovel, her head was still stretched over the little trees around her, but she did her best to appear nonchalant as soon as she spotted him.

“Took you long enough” she complained but she stretched her leaves excitedly in anticipation of the fresh water. The Doctor only huffed, pouring the water next to the rose, careful as not to spray her. She sighed contentedly, wiggling a little deeper into the soil.

“So, what’s your name then?” the Doctor asked, and the rose rustled in confusion.

“I’m just a rose” she said, “I don’t have a name.”

“But the people that cared for you before” the Doctor insisted, putting the watering can down, “They must have called you something.”

“Why do you assume there were people before you?” the rose asked, voice a little too shaky.

“You wouldn’t have survived here without care” the Doctor started listing, while sitting down next to the rose, “You are stronger and older than all the other plants, which means someone took care of you and the others are wild and grew later. You knew what a watering can was used for and you knew exactly how I should tend to you and the planet. Ergo, you’ve seen people do it before.”

He reached out to rip off the first brown leaf.

“Ouch!” the rose exclaimed, but she didn’t tell him to be careful again. Instead, she seemed to contemplate how to answer, staying silent. Apart from occasionally wincing or jumping when the Doctor, nimbly avoiding her thorns, ripped off another dead leaf.

“There was someone” she finally told him, and the Doctor froze for a moment, raising an eyebrow quizzically. “My…friend. …My prince, actually, that’s what I called him. He would take care of me. And he…just called me his rose.”

Her voice was suffused by a sadness the Doctor knew all too well.

“Where is he now, your prince?” he asked softly, gathering the leaves in his hand.

“He’s left me” the rose said, “To see the universe.”

“I’m sorry” the Doctor said.

“Don’t be!” the rose demanded angrily, “He will come back to me. Of course, he will. Who wouldn’t come back to me? I’m gorgeous and special, after all.”

“Special? How?” the Doctor asked, curious, “You look like any other common rose to me, just a little more neglected.”

She did seem ordinary, apart from being able to talk, and she had indicated she didn’t find that ability special. He reached out to pluck a last leaf from the flower when she deliberately stung him.

“Ouch!” he winced, pulling his hand back, “Stop hurting me!”

“ _You’re_ hurting _me_!” the rose squealed.

“I didn’t even touch you!” the Doctor argued.

“No! With your words!” The rose sounded a little teary now.

“With my words?” the Doctor repeated.

“Yes, with your words” the rose huffed, and her leaves made a little movement that the Doctor interpreted as an equivalent to rolling her eyes, “You really are thick, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am” the Doctor grinned, finally plucking off the last leaf, “But I’m also a genius so I get around alright.”

“A fine genius you are, telling me I’m not special” the rose muttered angrily while the Doctor stood up, brushing himself off. He stuffed the dry leaves into his pockets and reached for the shovel to start uprooting the baobabs.

“So, what about you then?” the rose asked after a while, “Has there ever been someone tending to you? You don’t look like it, anyway.”

“I’ve had friends, travelling with me” the Doctor answered when he had figured out what she meant.

“What happened to them?” the rose asked, “They’re not still in your cage, are they?”

“My cage? …You mean the TARDIS?” the Doctor asked, “She’s a sentient spaceship, not a cage! But no, my friends aren’t here anymore.”

“What happened?” the rose repeated, and the Doctor sighed.

“I lost them.”

“How?” she asked and sounded almost sympathetic.

“In different ways” the Doctor said, uprooting the first baobab, “I’ve had many, many friends travelling with me. Some chose to leave, some had to leave, some I had to leave, and some…I came here specifically to not think about them, actually.”

“You’re a bit like my prince” the rose smiled, and the Doctor found himself returning it.

“I might be” he said, “We’re both travellers after all, and I also had a friend called Rose.”

He had expected it would still hurt, saying her name. Nevertheless, it surprised him when his voice turned hoarse.

“You did?” the rose perked up. She seemed pleased with the idea that someone was called after her species. No surprise there, she appeared to be incredibly vain.

“I did” the Doctor agreed, clearing his throat, “A long time ago.”

“Was she beautiful?” the rose asked.

“Yes, very” the Doctor answered automatically, reconsidering immediately, “Actually, I don’t know. I don’t think I could tell if she was.”

“Yes, because you’re thick” the rose hummed, “I bet she wasn’t more beautiful than me, though.”

“I don’t care for beauty” the Doctor shrugged, already working on the third baobab, “At least not in that way.”

“What is beautiful to you, then?” the rose asked.

“Kindness” the Doctor answered immediately, “Music. When there’s something I don’t understand, when I can learn something new. When everybody lives. When someone sees space for the first time, proper space, and their whole face lights up and you can see them thinking: ‘I never thought I’d see this but here I am, small and insignificant but part and witness to something as big as this’. That is beautiful.”

The rose didn’t seem to know what to answer, maybe she hadn’t understood. The Doctor continued working, lifting one baobab after the other out of the ground.

She only raised her voice again to remind him to bring her some fresh soil when he reached the other side of the planet. The sun started rising on the rose again by this time, but the Doctor was still standing in the sunset, working far away from her. The baobabs were bigger there as if this side had been less looked after by the prince. He really must have loved his rose.

When the Doctor had finished the work and came back to the rose with the shovel full of soil, she appeared to be sleeping. She was sunken in herself, the blossom hanging down, and she didn’t stir until he reached her. But when he started rearranging the soil at the base of her stalk, she softly raised her voice and he realised she hadn’t been sleeping, but rather thinking heavy thoughts that pulled her head down.

“I lied to him” the rose said, “To my prince. Before he left.”

“How?” the Doctor asked, patting the ground and fastening the new soil.

“Thank you” the rose said, and it sounded like snuffles, “I lied to my prince, because I told him, I was special. That there aren’t any other flowers like me. But…but you’re right. I’m just an ordinary rose. I may be a very pretty one, but I’m not special.”

“Of course, you are special” the Doctor said.

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better” the rose argued but she sounded a little more hopeful.

The Doctor just gave her an incredulous glance under thick eyebrows that seemed to say ‘You really think I’d say anything just to make someone feel better? Look at the eyebrows and think’.

“But I am not special” the rose repeated, “I grew from an ordinary rose seed!”

“You grew from a rose seed that made it all the way to this planet” the Doctor said, “If that’s not special, I don’t know what is. Besides, it doesn’t matter whether you are unique. It matters, that you’re his friend, you’ll always be special to him. ...Now, is this over soon? If I’d wanted a pity party I could have stayed sulking in the TARDIS.”

“I could do with a few more compliments” the rose remarked hopefully, and the Doctor sighed.

“You’re fantastic and hilarious and symmetrical” he listed the first positive adjectives coming to mind in a hurry, “Anything else?”

“The volcanos need sweeping” the rose answered, “And your compliments need work.”

“Great” the Doctor grumbled, returning to the TARDIS for a brush, “Volcano cleaning sounds about as fun as gardening.”

On the contrary, volcano sweeping was a lot of fun and in the end the Doctor had not only cleaned all three of the volcanos (with the TARDIS parked at a newly empty space between the other two craters to give him access to the third) and repaired the broken one, but also redirected the flow of their winds. Now the rose was standing comfortably warm and the growth of the baobabs should have slowed down.

“There you go” the Doctor said, very pleased with his work. The rose seemed to agree.

“My prince will be so happy when he comes back and finds the third volcano working” she guessed, “And me in good health and supreme beauty.”

“Of course” the Doctor chuckled, sitting down next to the rose again to watch the third sunrise since he had set foot on the planet.

“He will be back, right?” the rose asked quietly, “My prince?”

“I don’t know” the Doctor answered.

“Have you ever gone back?” the rose asked, “Back home?”

The Doctor smiled wistfully.

“It isn’t that easy for me” he said, “I’ve been to my home planet a few times since I left, but…it’s complicated. The planet’s not my home anyway. The TARDIS is.”

The rose stayed silent for a while. Then she raised her voice again, so softly that the Doctor almost didn’t understand.

“What if he isn’t able to come back?”

He didn’t know what to answer to that.

They watched the sun rise and set again, then the Doctor stood up.

“I have to go” he said, “I’ve been running away for long enough.”

“Naturally” the rose nodded.

“Do you want to come with?” the Doctor asked, “I could find you some soil in the TARDIS.”

“No, thank you” the rose said, “I’ve got to wait for my prince after all. And I’ve got to take care of the planet for him.”

“Yes, you do” the Doctor smiled.

“Doctor?” the rose asked, and for the first time the Doctor could hear a sort of shyness in her voice, “Do you find me beautiful?”

The Doctor considered her. Tiny, strong rose. Ordinary, special rose. Waiting, all alone on a small planet, for her prince to come back. Cheeky, vain, but also brave and faithful. Grieving her loss, but never giving up.

“Yes” he answered calmly, “You are marvellous.”

“Thank you” the rose said.

He bent down again one last time, nudging her gently and smiling when she stung him again.

“Good luck” he said, “I hope your prince returns soon.” 

“Thank you” the rose said, bowing her head, “I hope your friends return as well.”

“I don’t think they will” the Doctor murmured, turning to leave and get back into the TARDIS. The message was waiting for him in there, the message with coordinates to the execution of his last friend. He dreaded to think who the executioner was. 

“Doctor?” the rose called when he was already standing in the entrance, “Will you come visit again?” 

He turned back and looked at her, a ruby spot all alone on the planet that was even more barren now with the baobabs gone, its light surface contrasting against the navy sky. A small rose on her blue meteor flying across the universe. It was difficult not to see himself out there. 

“Yes” he promised, “I will.”

“Goodbye, Doctor” the rose called, when he was closing the door and this time it almost didn’t hurt when he answered:

“Goodbye, Rose.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey :)
> 
> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed my take on what would happen if the 12th Doctor met the Little Prince's rose. Feel free to let me know what you think :)
> 
> This is a contribution to the Love Is In The Air Writing Challenge by @startrekkingaroundasgard on tumblr. Go check it out if you want to read more works discussing different forms of love in various fandoms! The tag should be loveisintheairwc.  
> The prompts I used in this were: platonic love, navy, rose, special
> 
> And thank you very much to ElsaIsThereLifeOnMars, who was my beta reader for this!


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